PEOPLE HIDE THEIR LOVE
By Wu-ti
Who says
That it’s by my desire,
This separation, this living so far from you?
My dress still smells of the lavender you gave:
My hand still holds the letter that you sent.
Round my waist I wear a double sash:
I dream that it binds us both with a same-heart knot.
Did not you know that people hide their love,
Like a flower that seems too precious to be picked?
THE FERRY
By the Emperor Ch’ien Wēn-ti, of the Liang dynasty, who reigned during the year A.D. 500.
Of marsh-mallows my boat is made,
The ropes are lily-roots.
The pole-star is athwart the sky:
The moon sinks low.
It’s at the ferry I’m plucking lilies.
But it might be the Yellow River—
So afraid you seem of the wind and waves,
So long you tarry at the crossing.[40]
[40] A lady is waiting for her lover at the ferry which crosses a small stream. When he does not come, she bitterly suggests that he is as afraid of the little stream as though it were the Yellow River, the largest river in China.